A World Made New
by ProcrastinatingPalindrome
Summary: America and Russia watch the slow death of something ancient and wish for impossible things. America/Russia


America stepped out the doors of the hospital into the warm sunlight and wished for the hundredth time that day that he could speak Bengali. Well, he could, a little. He had picked up bits and snatches in the past month that he had been in Bangladesh; he could order a beer and ask where the bathroom was, but he didn't have the vocabulary to comfort a sick three year old girl, and that was what mattered here. Then again, a three year old probably couldn't speak that well anyway, and maybe his tone had said what his words didn't: 'You'll be fine.' 'You're looking much better.' 'You'll get to go home soon, just be brave a little longer.' He hadn't been able to smile at her because the face mask blocked his mouth, and the painful blisters that covered her little body made her skin too sensitive for him to hold her hand, but hopefully his visit had comforted her in some little way.

He could feel a headache building up as he crossed the street to the building the WHO had borrowed for their eradication project. All that hydrogen peroxide and bleach they used for sterilization was really starting to get to him. Hydrogen peroxide for going into the hospital, hydrogen peroxide for coming out again, bleach for cleaning anything and everything could possibly have gotten contaminated...The smell of bleach hung in his nose all day, and the hydrogen peroxide had turned his hair several shades lighter during the whole project. It was annoying, sure, but you couldn't take any chances when you were dealing with smallpox, and nothing else worked quite so well for killing the virus. He could probably bum some Aspirin off someone to nip that headache anyway.

The building was surprisingly empty inside. England and Switzerland had been milling around earlier, but they had already left to pick up a shipment of medical supplies that afternoon. The human doctors were mostly working in the hospital, or making rounds to some of the nearby villages. The only inhabitant of the building was a single man hunched over a table with his back to America. America almost said hello before it occurred to him that there was only one person he knew that would wear a scarf in this heat. The light hair and sheer size of the man was kind of a giveaway too.

"The hell are you doing here?" America asked sharply.

"Resting." Russia didn't even bother turning around to answer. "I have a headache."

"You know that's not what I mean."

"I am part of the Smallpox Eradication Project too, da? Same as you. There is work to be done. Why should I not be here?"

That still didn't answer the real question (why are you here, you must have known I was in Bangladesh, you could have gone somewhere else, why did you come here) but America was willing to accept that he wasn't going to get a straight answer out of Russia.

"You're not the only one with a headache," he said at last. "Got any Aspirin?"

"Da, there's a bottle on the table, next to the vaccine."

The box of vaccines was in the middle of the table, and just as Russia had said, a half-empty bottle of Aspirin sat beside it. America popped open the cap, shook out two pills and gulped them down without water. Up close America could see the larger country's face was flushed and sweaty. His hair (which, like America's, had gotten lighter, bleached from a light wheat blond to almost white) was plastered damply to his forehead. The heat in Bangladesh must have been getting to him.

"You wouldn't be so overheated if you took off that stupid scarf," America said flatly. He felt he was being quite diplomatic for not adding 'fuckwad' or 'dipshit' or even 'fat-ass' to the end of that statement. Russia didn't answer, or even look up. America could have just left with that. He had gotten the Aspirin and Russia clearly wasn't in the mood for a casual chat (not that the two of them ever had 'casual chats' anymore.) There was nothing stopping him from leaving. Still, he hesitated. Russia wanted him to leave, and if he left, Russia would win this round. That had to be it, the competition between them that kept him in the room.

America inched around the table and took a seat opposite from Russia. The box of vaccines sat between them like a barrier.

"Have you been to see Rahima yet?" America asked, eager to break the uncomfortable silence.

"Who?"

"The girl, the little girl with smallpox. The latest case."

"Nyet. I have better ways to use my time here. And I thought you did too."

"Don't be an asshole. She's just a scared little kid. You could at least pretend to care about her."

"I do not like children."

_Since when?_ America thought. _You used to like kids. Or do they just make you uncomfortable now 'cause the last bunch of kids you got close to ended up splattered on a basement wall? _

No, that was too cruel to say. He hated Russia, or at least what he had become, but he wasn't callous enough to try to hurt his former friend like that.

"She might be the last one, you know," he said instead. He knew he was starting to babble a little, but what else was he supposed to do? It didn't used to be this hard to talk to Russia. "The last smallpox case, I mean. Of variola major anyway, but that's the killer, y'know? Variola minor's a kitten next to it. If we can really take out major, then-"

"Then the world will change."

America glanced up at that and his eyes met Russia's. The words sounded hopeful, but there was something bitter about Russia's expression, and America quickly dropped his eyes again. The world would change all right, but Russia knew better than anyone that change wasn't always for the better. But surely this would be. All the work to vaccinate everyone, to contain the virus, to erase it from the world...America could believe in that change bringing a brighter future, even if Russia couldn't.

"Crazy to think that smallpox will be a thing of the past soon, ain't it? It was one of the earliest things I can remember," America said quietly. "There wasn't any smallpox on North America until guys from Europe started showing up. I got sick just a few weeks after I met England. I know now, it was the blanket he gave me. It was contaminated, that's where I got it from. Real nasty shit...I remember how much it hurt to have anything touch me. And of course none of my original people had any natural immunity to it, so they all just..." Something old and dark passed over America's eyes, almost out of place on his youthful face. "...Just started dropping like flies. Like fucking _flies."_

For a while the only sound in the room was the hum of a portable fan and the drumming of America's fingers against the table.

"But what about you, huh?" America suddenly asked. "I'm sure it's given you plenty of hard times too."

"What is there to tell?" Russia asked wearily. "It is the same story for everyone. Smallpox was just a part of life. It was there before I was born...hard to imagine a world without it, da?"

"But we _are_ going to have a world without it," America insisted, and that bitterness crossed Russia's face again. America felt his stomach turn when he realized what Russia must have been thinking about, and in a flash that nausea was replaced with burning. That fucker, he wasn't planning to get rid of smallpox at all. Oh sure, he'd be noble and help them get rid of the natural virus...and how many tons of manufactured smallpox did he have sitting back at home in his factories? Get rid of the original virus, make the world feel safe, make the whole world really goddamn vulnerable...There would be no need to make more smallpox vaccines once they were finished eradicating the virus, and people would lose their natural immunity before too long. And what would happen then, if that sonuvabitch attacked him with smallpox once he had no way to fight it anymore? It would be the same nightmare that happened when England first came; his people would all die again.

He'd do it too. Russia was enough of a bastard to do something horrible like that. And he sure as hell was churning out weapon's grade smallpox and God knew what other biological weapons back at his place. America couldn't prove it yet, he didn't have enough evidence, but he just _knew_ that was what Russia was up to. Of course, America used to make biological weapons too, until Nixon made him stop. But even when he _was_ still making them, he had standards. He wasn't like Russia. He would never have tried something so low, so dirty, so evil.

...Jesus fucking Christ, what was he doing? What the hell was he doing, chatting with Russia like nothing had happened? He must be losing his mind, or the muggy weather was messing with his brain, or...or something. What, did he think that the two of them could just go back to how things used to be? America wasn't that naive. He knew perfectly well that whatever they used to have was gone, ruined, smashed to a million pieces. So why was he doing this now? Maybe he just wanted to forget all that for a while. Maybe he wanted to try to get a little closer to the strange happiness he had with Russia in the past, a time that got further away with each passing day. Stupid. He was so stupid to still want that. So fucking stupid to still want to be with that goddamned mother fucking Ruskie, even now.

A clatter brought America back to the present with a jolt. Russia had gotten out of his chair and was pawing through the contents of the vaccine box.

"What the hell are you doing now?" America snapped, sitting up straighter in his chair.

"It occurs to me that I haven't had a vaccine in several years," Russia said lightly as he pulled a bottle of the vaccine and a hypodermic needle out of the box. "It might be wearing off, da? I may as well give myself a new one."

"Why?" The word almost came out as snarl. "We're almost done here. You don't need a smallpox vaccine if there's no smallpox floating around anymore. Unless there's _another_ reason you might be exposed to smallpox in the future."

"What are you trying to imply?" Russia was smiling, but he voice had turned frosty. "Is it not important for us all to be properly immunized, right to the end?"

They stared at each other for a long, tense moment. America hated to admit it, but there was really nothing else he could say. He couldn't call Russia out on his biological weapons yet, not when he didn't have enough solid evidence. There was nothing more he could do about it, so...oh fuck it. He was sick of playing this stupid game, sick of arguing all the time.

"Give that here," he finally growled, holding out his hand. "You'll probably miss or something if you try to do it yourself."

"I have given plenty of vaccines. I can manage."

"But not to yourself. It's awkward to reach and stuff. Just give me the needle and roll up your sleeve."

Russia's eyes narrowed and for a second America thought he was going to keep arguing, but instead he sighed wearily, put the needle down and pulled the sleeve of his shirt over his shoulder. America swallowed a grin of satisfaction before grabbing a bottle of alcohol and a cotton swab to clean a spot on Russia's arm. It wasn't necessary to grab Russia's arm with his free hand at that point, but his fingers tightened around the larger country's forearm all the same. His skin was unusually warm to the touch, sticky with sweat.

"I'm telling you, take off that scarf. You're gonna melt at this rate," America muttered, knowing full well that Russia would do no such thing, as he opened a bottle of the vaccine and pulled the hypodermic needle out of it's wrapping, dunking the end into the liquid a few times.

"Hold still," he instructed, and jabbed the needle into Russia's arm over and over, fifteen sharp pricks. Tiny drops of blood welled up from where the needle had been, and America fumbled with a band-aid for a moment before sticking it over the site of the vaccine. There. Done.

"What a brave boy, you didn't cry or anything," America teased as he grabbed the used needle and walked over to the bio-hazard bag on the far wall.

"Da, I think I've earned a kiss."

America dropped the dirty needle in the bag and said nothing. Half of him wanted to turn around and look at Russia, but he already heard the sharp intake of breath from the other when he realized what he had just said. America could imagine the awkward expression spreading across his face, the way his eyes would drop and his fingers would toy with the end of his scarf when he was flustered...

That stupid bastard. He had slipped up, gotten a little too comfortable, forgotten for a second how things had changed. He had made the same mistake as America. They used to be able to joke and tease like that, they used to be comfortable with each other, but all of that was a long time ago.

America _missed_ those times, and that was what made him turn around. Russia's flushed face was a bit redder than it had been a few seconds ago but his eyes were fixed on America's, expectant and waiting. America moved almost without thinking, closing the distance between them with a few quick steps. Russia didn't smile, but his expression softened a little as America bent over, placing one hand flat on the table as he leaned closer-

And then all he could see were the faces of his people, their skin boiling with blisters, or swelling up and turning purple like rotten fruit, all dying in agony.

"No," he managed to spit out past the growing nausea. "No, I don't think you've been good enough for a kiss." He pulled back and turned away, suddenly dizzy. He wanted to leave. He wanted to walk out that door and pretend that he had never seen Russia at all. But another part of him wanted to say, _ask me again, tell me to kiss you, I'd do it if you just asked me one more time..._

"Not even on the cheek?" Russia had hesitated too long for it to come off as banter, but things were already too awkward for that to make much difference.

_Idiot_, America thought._ Dumb-ass, you should have asked for more than that. And I should ignore you and walk away. We're both fucking insane. _

Against his better judgment, America turned back. Russia's eyes had dropped down to the table, to the same spot where America's hand had been. He blinked when America put his hand back in that place and leaned close one more time, and his jaw tensed when America kissed his cheek. It was frustrating, so goddamn frustrating to be that close. He wanted to move just an inch to the right and kiss that fucker properly, wanted to grin afterward and say 'sorry, I missed your cheek,' wanted Russia to smile with him at that lame-ass line, and...and then nothing. There was nothing to come after that. No future here for either of them. He _knew_ that, and at last he pulled away, licking salty sweat off his lips. No future here. This is the past. Leave it. _Leave it behind._

"Go take a shower. You smell like gym socks," America managed to blurt out before he turned sharply, too quickly for Russia to respond, careful to avoid even a second of eye contact with the older country. He walked hastily out of the building, away from Russia and the past and back outside to the rapidly changing world.

Historical Notes:

Smallpox first came into contact with the human race somewhere between 10,000 and 4,000 years ago. There is no part of the world that was untouched by smallpox, and often the disease changed the course of history. It wreaked the most havoc in the Americas, were it wiped out millions upon millions of natives who had no natural immunity to the disease. There is evidence that the Europeans helped spread the disease by intentionally giving people blankets infected with smallpox.

In 1958, the Soviet Union first suggested a plan to eradicate smallpox, not just from a region, but from the entire planet. Many were skeptical that such a plan could ever succeed, but eventually other countries got on board. The US agreed in part to try to improve relations with the Soviet Union. The Smallpox Eradication Project was a massive worldwide effort that aimed to immunize at least 80% of the population and isolate outbreaks of smallpox until the virus was no long able to infect any new victims. Amazingly, it was successful. The last naturally occurring case of variola major was in 1975, and infected a three year old Bangladeshi girl named Rahima Banu. The last case of variola minor infected a hospital cook in Somalia in 1977. In 1980, the WHO declared that smallpox had been eradicated.

However, at the same time that all of this was going on, the Soviet Union's secret biological warfare program, Biopreparat, was manufacturing weapon's grade smallpox to be used as a WMD. The Soviets had been working with smallpox as a weapon since the 40's, but with the eradication making the world more vulnerable to a smallpox attack, a new push was made to develop the virus even further. The virus they developed was more deadly than natural smallpox, and worked against the American vaccine. Until the Soviet Union fell, the scientists of Biopreparat had to make sure that there was at least 20 tons of smallpox on hand to be used if war broke out. Since the smallpox would deteriorate over time, they had to keep producing more smallpox over the years to meet the 20 ton requirement. It takes only six particles of smallpox to infect a person, so 20 tons is a ridiculously huge amount of smallpox, enough to cause an apocalyptic pandemic. In addition to smallpox, Biopreparat also produced biological weapons from anthrax, plague, cholera, Marburg, Ebola and many other viruses and bacterias. For a while they were even considering trying to use AIDS as a weapon, but thankfully that project was dropped.

Today, smallpox only officially exists in two places; the Center for Disease Control in Atlanta, and the Ivanovsky Institute of Virology in Moscow. Of course, it probably exists unofficially (and illegally) in other places too. It's been speculated that Iraq and North Korea have strains of smallpox in their possession, and some of the strains that Biopreparat had might still be somewhere in Russia other than the Ivanovsky Institute. But just like with nuclear weapons, it's hard to prove anything.

There are two naturally occurring strains of smallpox: variola major and variola minor. Minor is milder and has a much lower mortality rate (only about 1%.) Major has a mortality rate of 20-40%. Those are just the natural strains, though. It's very likely that the stuff produced in Biopreparat was more deadly and virulent. There are different types of smallpox too. The most common type creates painful blisters all over the body. There are other types, though. Flat and hemorrhagic smallpox don't make pustules; instead the victim's body starts to swell up and turn purple as they hemorrhage beneath their skin. In those cases, the mortality rate is almost 100%.


End file.
